


Space Pirate Samba

by tylerfucklin (Zimothy)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Angst, Heartbreak, M/M, Misunderstandings, Reunions, Science Fiction, happy endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 15:18:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zimothy/pseuds/tylerfucklin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That awkward moment when your fiance comes back from the dead as a space pirate trying to rob you and your sister's ship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Space Pirate Samba

**Author's Note:**

> another commission down, woo! they wanted 'sterek in outer space' and I came up with everything else.  
> title is a shoutout to my fave space show ever; cowboy bebop

“There’s a second cruiser coming up on the left,” Derek called out to Laura, his hands gripping tight to the controls and eyes flitting over the small screen on the upper right screen of the cockpit. For once, he was glad that Laura had spent half of their earnings on a new security system for the ship. He was pretty sure two years ago they wouldn’t have had a chance against an attack from a group of bandits. 

It was bad enough they’d been caught in deep space--but the second two cruisers had been deployed from the hull of that massive pirate ship, Derek knew these guys meant business. That was why he’d made sure to turn on the pulse sensors, which let him know where exactly the two bandit cruisers were coming from without Derek having to frantically try to cover all of his blind spots. 

“I see ‘im,” Laura shouted back, followed by the sound of ‘the claw’ being deployed. It was really exactly that--a massive claw that Laura had traded for back on Nasper. It was one of the best investments she’d ever made, given that she could drag in up to a medium-sized pirate cruiser and suddenly they’d be one bounty richer after turning in whoever they had caught. The sound of Laura letting out a triumphant whoop was proof enough that they had managed to reel at least one of the bandits. 

Jumping to her feet, Laura smacked the intercom. “Boyd, can you do prison detail? Erica, reel the claw back, we’ve got another one out there.”

Derek had barely managed to start turning the ship to try and get the other cruiser into their range when it zipped in close, scraping in just above the front of the cockpit and making Derek almost fall out of his chair in shock. He watched as it weaved in and out of the cargo load up top before circling around under the ship.

“Show off,” he muttered under his breath, thumbing a switch that would turn the outer hull into a giant magnet. They usually used it for moving cargo to the docking bay, but when there was a loud clang, Derek couldn’t help but feel a little smug knowing a space pirate had just gotten one-upped by one of the most common merchant ship accessories on their side of the galaxy.

Laura’s laughter was loud and sudden as she burst into the cockpit, grasping the back of Derek’s pilot chair and staring at the feed on the screen. “Did you seriously just use the haul magnet?” she breathed, grinning wide at small light flashing under the secondary cargo label. 

“Yup,” Derek said, sliding his chair over to where he could guide the magnets to actually drag the ship into the hull. It was how they did the big transports--put a massive load inside a metal box and, essentially, beam it up. 

Laura snorted, ruffling Derek’s hair and muttering, “I was starting to miss the sass master in you,” she teased affectionately. Derek gave her a dirty look, but turned back to focus on getting the cruiser into the bay without doing any extensive damage to the ship. It was a little bigger than anything they had ever tried to transport, so the sound of screeching metal was grating to Derek’s ears. 

Heading out of the cockpit, Laura paused only to tuck a gun into the holster on her thigh before she made her way to the cargo hold. Derek paged Isaac to come up to the cockpit so he could check on the two pirates they had just snatched up. There was no mothership in sight just yet, but where there were cruisers in deep space, there was always a base.

Isaac was there within a few minutes, and Derek hurried down to join Laura. The closer he got, the more he recognized the sound of his sister’s yelling. Panic hit him and Derek bolted, running as fast as he could. He scrambled to get the door open, gun drawn as he burst into the cargo bay to see Laura flailing and screaming her head off at two dejected looking young men who were tied up in a heap on the ground (obviously Boyd’s doing). 

“--were dead! I wish you were because I kind of want to kill you right now!” Laura roared, finally stepping enough to the side in her tangent that Derek could take in the sight of the two bandits.

It was a good thing he hadn’t taken the safety off of his gun, because it fell from his hands and clattered to the ground before Derek could stop himself. He couldn’t even think--couldn’t process enough words to do so much as to utter the name of the person in front of him. There were two pirates, one Derek didn’t recognize, and one Derek knew very, _very_ well.

Stiles, tonguing at the blood dripping down from his busted nose and hitting his lip (probably thanks to Laura), gave Derek a weak and pink-tinted grin and said, “hey Derek.”

The man next to Stiles gaped even more, if possible, before hissing, “Derek? What the hell, dude? You told me he died!” so vehemently that it wasn’t that hard to hear him. Stiles shrugged, like he had no explanation for why Derek wasn’t dead and buried, and that hurt harder than knowing Stiles had just left and never come back.

Derek crouched down, picking his gun up and tucking it back into the shoulder holster. He didn’t really think about what he was saying, just that he couldn’t stop the bitter sting in his words when he uttered, “You could have just called off the engagement instead of pretending I was dead. I didn’t realize you hated me that much,” while brushing past Laura to go and unlock one of the few cells they had for situations like this--catching space pirates and turning them in for bounties.

“You know, most people don’t say yes to a proposal if they’d rather fake their own death,” Laura said snidely. Derek ignored the burning, increasing pain in his chest; he pushed away the urge to hold his breath or scream until he couldn’t breathe. Instead, he unlocked the closest cell, opening it and gesturing for Boyd to drag them into the cell.

Stiles made a tiny, pained noise in the back of his throat. He mouthed wordlessly for a second before gasping out, “it isn’t like that--it’s hard to explain, it is. Derek, I--”

“Don’t waste your breath,” Derek snarled, dragging a hand up to press it over the handle of his gun in warning. He wouldn’t actually shoot Stiles--but he was so hurt and pissed that he wouldn’t hesitate to at least terrify him with a few false alarms. Stiles had never been fond of guns, anyway. He preferred the high-tech stuff that cost an arm and a leg and was only powered by a type of energy cell that you had to hop over to the next galaxy to bargain for. They were expensive, but they had this nifty thing of causing instant paralysis in humans, and instant system shut-downs in ships and transport pods. 

Sad that it cost almost three times as much for a means of avoiding murder.

Derek hauled both young men up, ignoring their protests as he dragged them down the hall to the cells.

“Derek, please!” Stiles cried, “I was supposed to come back, I swear! I didn’t mean to--” his cries cut off as the cargo door shut behind Derek when he headed back for the cockpit. He’d barely relieved Isaac when Laura was there and looking as nosy as ever.

“Don’t you want to know why he left?” she pressed her hands to Derek’s shoulders, thumbs digging in and massaging at the line of tension that had appeared the second Derek had landed his eyes on Stiles, alive and breathing.

Scowling at the faded constellation of St. Dorian, Derek relaxed into his sister’s hands and shut his eyes. It took him a minute to reply, too lost in his memories and that feeling of desperate hope and desire that had struck him like a lead weight when he’d entered the cargo hold. 

“Why does it matter?” he rasped, “it was years ago.”

“You’ve been mourning him for four years,” Laura pointed out quietly, dragging her nails up into Derek’s scalp and scratching the way she always did when he got too stressed out. Derek let the touch calm him for only a moment longer before he accessed the GPS to locate the closest planet with a bounty station. They didn’t pay as much as the actual law enforcement, but it was faster to go in, flash an ID, let them pull up the baddies in their database, and then load up Derek’s card with Nebulae Credit (which was, essentially, a traveler’s check that could be converted into any form of currency) than it was to go through the hours of paperwork and filing that came from doing it through the space government’s system. 

Pulling her fingers out of Derek’s hair, Laura released a pained and mildly aggravated sigh before reaching over his shoulder and snapping on the security camera for the prison hold. The exact camera that Derek had specifically shut off for the sole reason of avoiding the fact that his ex-fiance, who had been dead until an hour ago, was sitting in his ship, alive and well.

The sound of bickering boomed through the cockpit’s speakers and Derek tried his hardest to ignore it until he couldn’t anymore.

“Scott, just listen--” Stiles pleaded to his accomplice, apparently named Scott. He was given an angry snarl, followed by Scott actually head butting him in the arm because his arms were tied behind his back.

“No, dude. What the hell? You told me he was dead!” 

It still hurt to hear, even after already knowing that Stiles had cared so little about Derek as to tell people he’d died. Derek clenched his jaw, fingers jabbing at the GPS and pulling up the coordinates for the nearest planet. 

Stiles released a dismayed sound, crying out, “yeah, well he might as well have been! It wasn’t like I could go back home and everything would have been okay! You saw how he reacted--”

“He reacted like he thought you were dead but just found out you had left him instead! Seriously, man, why would you even leave him in the first place? He was like--the best thing that ever happened to you!”

A tiny, almost inaudible sigh, and then Stiles murmured, “yeah… he was, wasn’t he?” before going quiet.

No matter how desperately he tried, Derek couldn’t tear his eyes from the feed. Each breath he took was painful, like a knife had been driven right into his chest and was slowly draining the air out of him. His heart ached to watch, ached like a painful burn that went straight to the tips of his fingers and toes. Every time he blinked, he half expected Stiles to disappear from sight or for the date to change from ‘live feed’ to some historical tape from years ago. 

It was hard to grasp onto the idea that Stiles was alive--that he wasn’t dead and that Derek’s pain was still going strong.

“Still love him, don’t you?” Laura asked softly, brushing her palm over Derek’s head and then rubbing the back of his neck. When Derek didn’t say anything, she seemed to take that as answer enough, heading back down into the hull --likely to finish inventory.

“Derek,” Boyd’s voice crackled over the intercom, “we’ve got a tail--a big one. Looks like a beta.”

Derek cursed, wishing that Stiles had at least joined a rogue omega crew instead of one as established as a beta ship. Sure, the Hale vessel was an alpha craft, but they were a merchant ship first and foremost. Laura had spent years taking apart everything after their parents had died, hell bent on making the ship useful again after so many years of neglect.

He acknowledged Boyd over the radio, hitting the intercom to let the crew know they needed to find somewhere to strap in and buckle up as Erica popped into the cockpit with two ID cards in her hand. He ignored her as she went over to the small hub in the corner, knowing she’d probably pilfered the cards off of Stiles and Scott and was going to look up their bounty price before they even landed.

“We’re jumping in a few minutes,” he warned her. Erica hummed, absently putting her seatbelt on while she slid the first ID card into the bounty database.

On the security feed, Stiles started to talk again --oblivious to what was going on outside of their cell. He shifted, crossing his legs and scooting up against the wall. “I didn’t mean to stay gone,” he confessed softly. Derek tried not to break the engine handle as he lowered the thrusters to make the jump.

“Could have fooled me,” Scott said dryly and with such disdain that Derek temporarily felt bad that he was going to be arrested in just a couple hours. It was reassuring to know that a complete stranger (albeit one Derek was pretty sure Stiles was good friends with) was not pitying Stiles one single bit. 

“Well,” Stiles snarked, “it’s not like I could just tell you, ‘hey, I’m having a quarter-life crisis and I’m about to get married to someone who is way too good for me. Can I join your pirate crew so I can recapture my teenage years before they’re gone in the face of a domestic life on Pietskar?” Stiles paused, and then added, “not that I have anything against Pietskar. They have like, a roller coaster on the south-side market place. Oh, did you know we had an apartment? Yeah. We did.”

Scott opened his mouth, but Stiles was still going on a tangent.

“I had a blue toothbrush and he had an orange one. Also, he would spend two hundred Nebs to ship ice cream all the way from Earth. Legit ice cream, man. From cows and shit. That’s too--that’s too good for me. I couldn’t bring him down, you know?”

“Uh,” Scott shifted, wiggling on his butt until he was side by side with Stiles. “I think getting expensive ice cream is kind of proof that you should have maybe not left in the first place,” he said quietly, “because that sounds better than you coming to me, crying that someone broke into Derek’s shop and killed him, and that you needed to get off the planet before you did something you’d regret. You know I wasted half a tank making the jump to Pietskar, right? I think I broke like eight travel laws because I thought you were gonna kill yourself.”

The engines whirred as they began to warm, hull vibrating with the buildup of energy that always came before a jump. Derek knew they didn’t have much longer before the beta ship started to close in, but he’d rather they waited until the last minute than to rush it and end up jumping too soon and spending an extra hour traveling afterwards. 

“Pretty good acting, huh?” Stiles chirped, but he didn’t sound very happy about it. He sounded like all those times he had tried to get people to buy some of the hand-made trinkets he’d added to Derek’s shop, only for them to brush him off as an ignorant human. 

Being a Vargun (“A werewolf, Derek. That’s really what you guys are; just find me an old Earth history book and I can prove it.”) was only fractionally easier to get the time of day. There were even some days where Stiles had gotten bitter over the fact that he would get overlooked in the marketplace while Derek could at least drag people into conversation. 

“You’re awful,” Scott bemoaned, sounding like it was painful just to be friends with Stiles, let alone try to get a straight answer out of him. Stiles shifted, shrugging once and then looking away. He dragged in a shaking breath, head shaking and then grinning thinly at Scott.

“Yeah, keeps me awake at night,” he said lightly, cracking one of the fakest smiles Derek had ever seen. 

A sharp, angry coil of bitterness hit Derek. He didn’t even think, hand slamming forward to throw the ship into hyper drive. Everything lurched and he could hear Erica squawking in surprise. Stiles and Scott were shrieking--a quick glance showing the two of them rolling over one another and trying to keep stationary as the ship’s pressure grew heavier and heavier during the jump. 

The ship had barely stabilized before Laura was bustling into the room, fixing her disheveled hair and stating, “you need to talk to him,” with her firm big-sister voice. Derek ignored her, fiddling with some knobs on the control panel and studiously ignoring the interested noise from Erica.

“Derek, you REALLY should go talk to him,” Laura stressed.

“I’m driving the ship,” Derek shot back irritably, to which Erica scoffed loudly (given that she’d been cackling at the sound of Scott and Stiles tumbling around in the holding cell, it was no surprise).  
“It’s on autopilot and you were not in a relationship with it for four years,” Laura snapped, grabbing the back of Derek’s chair and spinning it around so he was facing her.

“Three and a half,” he retorted.

“Oh please. You were together the moment you set eyes on that ugly earth outfit he was wearing the day you met him. It was four years,” Laura hissed. The sad part was, Derek couldn’t even argue. He was pretty sure it was love at first cringe--and that maybe, at one point, Stiles had felt the same way.

Laura stared some more, her eyebrows bobbing up expectantly, and Derek sighed and dragged himself out of his seat. He ignored the smug mutter of, “that’s what I thought,” from his sister and instead made his way down to the keep. 

When he opened the door, the sound of bickering abruptly silenced. Scott was halfway on top of Stiles, squirming to try and push himself off with his arms and legs tied up, and Stiles was angrily elbowing and kneeing at him to try and ‘help’. Derek stared, and Scott sat up with a grunt, gesturing from Stiles to Derek with this crazed expression that maybe was supposed to encourage Stiles to say something to Derek.

Stiles dragged in a deep, nervous breath, opened his mouth, and Derek panicked. He didn’t want excuses--didn’t want apologies or half-truths. He couldn’t handle it, and he honestly didn’t know how strong his resolve would be at keeping himself from just forgiving Stiles if only for the chance to hold him again for the first time in years. Derek knew if he gave in now, there would be no going back.

“I don’t care what you have to say,” he blurted. The hurt, startled look on Stiles’ face was like a knife to the gut. Derek wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen that expression before. It was a look that didn’t fit Stiles; the opposite of his smug grins and sarcastic charm. He looked devastated.

“I really don’t,” Derek plowed on, because now that he was talking, it was like four years of pent-up heartbreak and longing were coming out of him like a popped bubble. 

“My parents are dead, my uncle might as well be dead. You were all I had left besides Laura and you left. You didn’t just leave, you disappeared. I looked for you for months. I spent money for advertisements to find you, I screamed your name at every person on the street with short brown hair.”

The more Derek talked, the more it hurt, and the more distressed Stiles began to look. He didn‘t care, though--why should he? Stiles was the one who put him through all of this. 

“I mourned you,” Derek hissed, “I put your picture on the mantle with my mother and father.”

For a second, Derek could _see_ the impact of his words, and then Stiles looked away. They stood there for a long time--so long that Derek’s chest began to ache when he realized he was holding his breath, waiting for Stiles to speak.

He got nothing, though, and that was enough for Derek to turn on his heel and march for the door.

“I was never good enough for you,” Stiles called out softly. Derek froze, spinning on his heel and watching as Stiles continued to scowl at the ground. “I … I just wanted a few days and then the longer I was gone, the more I realized you could find someone to make you happier than I ever could. I didn’t want to come back to see that.”

“There never was anyone else,” Derek spat, the words a bitter poison of anger and hurt over the fact that Stiles had thought so little of him.

Swallowing, Stiles shifted until he was pressed up against the wall, his shoulder bumping with Scott--who was quiet, trying to stay out of the conversation as best he could. “How could I know that?” Stiles whispered.

“Because I love you!” Derek cried, throwing his arms up in the air. “I bought you a ring! I spent days searching for a place that even sold rocks from Earth because quartz is your favorite gemstone!”

Even in the darkness of the temporary cell, Derek could see the tears rising up in Stiles’ eyes, the glaze that made them shine an almost honey color. He sat up, tugging at the bindings on his arms. 

“I was _scared_! We were getting married, Derek! Do you know how many other relationships I’ve had besides you? NONE. I was a fucking PIRATE until I came into your stupid shop and decided to sell my ship and stay on Pietskar.--and let me tell you, it wasn’t because Beacon Station was the highlight of activity-- but you know me, you know what I do when I get stressed! I run away--I _always_ run away!”

“Stop making excuses for yourself!” Derek snarled, wanting so badly to just grab him by the front of that stupid skintight space suit and shove him up against the wall until he could rattle understanding into that stubborn head of his. “You stopped running away years ago and we both know it. You left and you were too much of a coward to come back because you’d rather fake your own death than admit you were wrong.”

It didn’t take a genius to see the way Stiles clammed up. Hell, even Scott looked taken aback--head snapping to look at Stiles in that way where he was searching for a reaction from Stiles being called out on his behavior. Derek snarled, ready to defend his words if Stiles wanted to deny it, when Stiles let out a tired, bitter chuckle before peering up at Derek and shakily saying, “you always knew me best,” with sad smile in the corners of his lips. 

Derek almost, almost, wanted to take his words back, but instead he grabbed at the door, biting out, “yeah, I’ll remember that when I collect the bounty on your head,” and left with one last glimpse at Stiles cringing and Scott looking like a man sentenced to death.

Despite Laura’s claims that Derek spent the remainder of the trip hiding in the cockpit, Derek was busy doing some of their balances and double-checking to see if they had any cargo they could sell at the Nhuz marketplace after Scott and Stiles were dropped off at the bounty station. 

Of course, Nhuz was pretty much a center of activity for exotic trade. Laura was convinced if they stayed a few days, they could haul in a good deal of items that would sell for twice as much on some of the outer systems. Derek humored her--mostly because he was far too lost in his own thoughts as they finally began their descent. 

Once landed, Boyd, Isaac and Erica took the two cruisers and Laura’s transport pod and headed out to bay. According to Erica, Scott and Stiles’ bounty barely raked in a month’s supply of groceries for the crew, let alone enough Nebs to make up for the fuel it would take to even leave the thick atmosphere surrounding the planet. That being said, the cruisers were worth probably twice as much as their pilots, and that was good enough for Derek.

When Derek and Laura loaded both Stiles and Scott into the second pod and headed for the station, it was utter silence. Scott seemed more naturally quiet than Stiles, but not even Stiles was uttering a word. He didn’t beg forgiveness, didn’t try to ask for freedom or even to bribe Derek or Laura into releasing him. It was like he completely understood why Derek was turning him in--and maybe even felt it was what he deserved.

In fact, the only time Stiles uttered a single word was as the station clerk was bustling them through entry and he had turned to face Derek one last time. Derek had felt trapped in place when Stiles plainly said, “I never stopped loving you--even now. I deserve this and… it--it was great to see you. I’ll miss you,” before he was shoved out of sight and the door closed behind him.

No matter how hard he tried, Derek couldn’t ignore the almost crippling pain in his chest as Laura scanned their bounty cards, watching the meager amount of Nebulae Credit appear on the screen. 

It really wasn’t worth the heartache. He turned to the clerk, quietly asking, “how much is the bail?”

The man looked at him oddly, his three eyes blinking slow and calculating, before he listed off a number that was a good four times the amount of what the bounty was. He thanked the clerk, turning on his heel and heading back for the transport pod. He dropped Laura off at the market, heading back to the ship to do a quick run-down of their assets.

What he really ended up doing was sitting in the cockpit, playing with a cheap squeaky stress ball Laura had pilfered from their Earth shipment a few months back. He squeezed it a few times, taking pleasure in the way the eyes popped out, and then gave into the feeling of annoyance, frustration, hurt and anger all boiling under his skin.

He chucked the toy, watching it bounce off the wall with an ‘eep’ and roll across the floor. For a second, he was reminded of how Stiles had once loved tossing around an old Jarjul kid toy that he’d found in Derek’s closet. It was so bouncy that Stiles could keep himself entertained for hours. Derek had ended up taking the thing and hiding it where Stiles couldn’t reach just because they’d gone through at least six different lamps in the time Stiles had discovered it.

Just thinking about Stiles made everything worse, though. Nothing he could do made it stop once the memories started to come back. He remembered the day he met Stiles.

Back then, Derek wasn’t much for travel like Laura was. He spent most days sitting in his small merchant stand just on the very edge of the Pietskar marketplace. Pietskar was a small planet with a huge tourist attraction. The gravity there was much less than most planets, which made for a great place to set up amusement parks and things of that nature--where people could come and spend days exploring and walking around and never get tired.

Derek had a small apartment in the city, and worked every day selling things in his little stand full of trinkets from around the systems. Laura would come by every couple months to drop off new things--stuff she found, traded for, or outright bought--and sell them cheap for Derek to turn around and resell for higher. 

It was pretty much a routine morning like any other. Derek had been reading a book he’d gotten a few days prior (it was always hard to find novels in English, given that there were only four known planets that spoke any variation of it) when someone had come up to his stand. Derek hadn’t paid attention at first, not until he realized slim fingers were poking and prodding everything on display. 

Derek had, admittedly, been distracted by his gaudy Earth clothes at first. Not many humans would intentionally dress to show off their heritage. Derek, even though he was Vargun, did own a leather jacket--but it was for warmth more than anything. The plaid clashed horribly with the young man’s uncomfortably tight jeans, but he seemed utterly oblivious, sliding plastic orange sunglasses up onto his head and squinting at a jar of strawberry preserves. Derek didn’t have many of those; anything from Earth was rare and usually unwanted. 

“Don’t touch unless you plan on buying,” he snapped--mostly because Laura would pitch a fit, given her fondness for anything related to the Milky Way galaxy. The Earthan kid had set the preserves down and looked over at Derek before frowning and bobbing his eyebrows in a look of impressed surprise.

He blinked, obviously doing a double-take, and then leered. With one hand slowly circling the lid of the preserves, the Earthan leaned forward and plainly said, “Well, if that’s the case, are _you_ for sale?” he asked, his charm obviously laid on thick for humor’s sake.

It wasn’t every day that someone hit on him. Vargun were very humanoid in nature, and if Derek was particularly tired and forgot to make sure his ears were shifted into their natural pointed state, he sometimes went through a fair bit of hell for it by being assumed as human. Still, that didn’t mean Derek wasn’t going to attempt to play hard to get.

The kid was good looking; and cocky. Derek liked that. He liked the way his nose was flat on the bottom and curved up just the tiniest bit. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a little bit of Ltue in his bloodline that gave him that almost mousey grin.

Marking his page, Derek set his book down and raked his eyes over the thin, wiry body in front of him. “Two thousand Nebs,” he said dryly--because it was the most outrageous price he could think of off the top of his head. The Earthan looked startled, eyes narrowing and lips pursing in thought.

“Sure,” he said, pulling back and reaching for his wallet, “I mean, I didn’t realize this was just your day job, but it’s been a long time since I saw someone glare at me for messing with their display and not for being who I am,” he rambled, grinning and flipping through a ridiculous wad of cash.

Derek stood, reaching out before he could think about what he was doing. He understood entirely what the kid was talking about--but he wasn’t a prostitute, and he wasn’t someone who did one night stands.

“How about you buy me dinner, first, and then we’ll negotiate a long term payment plan. I’m Derek,” he said, watching as the kid’s eyes grew wider and wider, face splitting into a surprised, but pleased smile.

“Stiles,” he said, looking utterly delighted and so endearing that Derek wondered if it would be too soon to kiss him. 

Even now, Derek could recall that memory with ease. The little things--like the way that Stiles had seemed to carry a bounce in his step the entire time he’d waited for Derek to close up shop, or how he had walked proudly and unashamed of his clothes or heritage (though some of that strut might have been due to Stiles being pleased to have someone like Derek at his side). 

They’d had a lot of happy moments--more than he could count…but the last time Derek truly recalled shameless joy on Stiles’ face had been the day Derek had gone down on one knee. 

Stiles had stared blankly at his ice cream, focused on the simple engagement ring that was perched neatly on a swirl of whipped cream. It was pure Mhornthonian gold, the center made out of Stiles’ favorite earth gemstone. It had cost a fortune, but the way Stiles had looked when Derek had taken the ring, wiped it off, and reached for Stiles’ hand to put it on him? It was worth every single cent. 

Stiles’ fingers were shaking in Derek’s hand, hot and clammy, but completely pliant when Derek slipped the ring on the customary finger for Earth marriage. “I don’t want anyone else,” Derek said, looking up nervously at how Stiles was still watching him with a look of obvious disbelief. “I figured you felt the same--”

He was cut off when Stiles lunged forward, tackling Derek to the ground and kissing him breathless in the middle of the candy shop that was down the street from their apartment. Stiles was grinning madly into the kiss, teeth clacking against Derek’s and his hands trying to clutch to him as they kept trembling. One of the waiters had politely asked them to quit after the third or forth press of lips, to which Derek had apologized, (thanked her when she congratulated them) and then proceeded to drag Stiles all the way back to their shared flat.

It wasn’t often that they had penetrative sex--not for trying, though. There were hundreds of methods they had tried, but they usually had to avoid penetration because of how difficult it was to come by lube that Stiles wasn’t allergic to. Earthans had tender skin, fragile and very breakable. It made Derek wary sometimes of hurting Stiles; given how he was already accident prone and didn’t really have the highest pain threshold. 

That day, though, Stiles hadn’t cared that they were already running low on lube. They’d had sex in bedroom, living room, even the kitchen and bathroom. Sure, it had been drug out for the better part of a day, but it left Stiles a boneless mess by the time he finally seemed de-wired enough to melt into Derek’s arms on the couch and stare at the ring on his hand. 

“I love it,” he proclaimed, shifting his hand back and forth and watching the gem catch in the waning light of the second sun. “I love _you_ ,” he added, squirming until he was belly to belly on Derek’s chest. Derek grinned, cupping Stiles’ face and leaning in for a kiss as Stiles sighed happily, unbothered by the sticky mess of their bed or the fact that the room would need to be aired out for a good two days before it stopped reeking of sex.

Instead, Stiles hummed a song to himself, kissing Derek slower and slower until he finally drifted off asleep-- happy and content.

It had never taken much to make Stiles happy. Derek’s favorite memories were the little things--moments of lying in bed and hiding in each other’s shoulders as the suns started to peek in through the curtains.  
Moments where Stiles would brush his fingers gently over the skin of Derek’s stomach and ask him silly questions. Simple, inane ones that Derek had always thought were part of that little human in Stiles that made him constantly curious and hungry for knowledge. Thinking back, Derek realized that maybe the questions weren’t as pointless as he had assumed. 

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that there might have been a reason that Stiles thought he wasn’t good enough for Derek. Sometimes Stiles would press up close to him, kiss him and play with his hair and ask questions like, “what would you do if someone better than me came along?”

At the time, Derek had always thought they were stupid questions. He had never even thought to dignify them with a serious answer because to him, Stiles was strong and proud and happy with himself. 

So instead of turning and pulling Stiles into his arms, instead of hushing those insecurities away with words like, ‘there is no one better than you,’ Derek had just scoffed, batted Stiles’ hand out of his hair, and smirked while teasing with the answer of, “I would say hello to them.”

That wasn’t the only time, either. There were more--like when Stiles had been on his lap, rubbing the stubble on Derek’s jaw and scratching behind his ears to ask, “what if I go bald and ugly when I’m old?” before wrapping his arms around Derek’s shoulders and resting against his shoulder.

“I’ll get there first,” Derek had muttered dryly.

‘I’d still love you anyway,’ might have been a better answer.

The worst might have been on Derek’s birthday one year, when Stiles had burned himself while pulling out their dinner from the oven. He’d been so startled he had dropped the dish, breaking it and sending their dinner flying everywhere. Derek was sure he had seen tears in Stiles’ eyes as he dropped the oven mitts in frustration, but he had merely gone to fetch the broom instead of pointing it out.

“Man, I don’t know how you put up with me. I can be such an idiot,” Stiles had mumbled, trying to pick the shards of casserole dish out of the mess of food. Derek didn’t really like to argue, and he didn’t think Stiles would take compliments because he NEVER took compliments very well.

It didn’t cross his mind to do anything other than bend down and help Stiles clean, fondly pecking him on the forehead and saying, “yeah, but you’re _my_ idiot.”

‘It’s part of why I love you.’ he should have said. 

It was enough to make Derek hate himself. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he’d driven Stiles away. He’d ignored hundreds of signs, thousands of nuances that pointed out Stiles’ insecurity, that all lead to Stiles being afraid that Derek would stop loving him. Stiles was thousands of millions of billions of miles from home, so far away from his people, and Derek was all he’d had. Instead of assuring Stiles he was loved, Derek had been too focused on the physical aspects of being in a relationship, and had never once thought that maybe Stiles needed some sort of verbal reassurance.

Considering how much Stiles talked, and how many times he needed Derek to repeat himself and to reassure Stiles when he was having anxiety or stress, it was really fucking stupid of Derek to never notice how little he actually said the words ‘I love you’.

Guilt burned in Derek’s gut so deep that it outweighed the pain and heartache for the first time in years.

It didn’t take a genius to know that Stiles wasn’t the only one who had fucked this up-- he’d taken Derek’s lack of communication and had thrown it right back in his face, really.

They still had a few days left in Nhuz. Maybe when Laura came back from her shopping trip, Derek could ask her opinion. Then again, Laura’s opinion usually involved pointing out Derek’s flaws. He could still sleep on it, instead.

[]-[]-[]

Seeing Derek again wasn’t painful. It was agonizing. It was taking a barely-healed wound and wrenching it open again, left to bleed and rot for days as Stiles was forced to sit in a tiny, dark cell and replay Derek’s words over and over and over again. There was only so many times Scott could tell him to cheer up before Stiles considered knocking himself unconscious by beating his head against the wall.

The third day in their cell dawned early, with one of the guards wrenching the door open. Stiles scrambled to his feet, half delighted to hear their bail had been paid, and half dreading it. His least favorite thing about freedom was hearing Lydia and Allison lecture them again on the fact that getting themselves caught usually had a negative impact on their line of work. His body still ached from their encounter with Derek. In all the years they had been together, Stiles hadn’t really seen Laura’s ship before--just Laura. It wasn’t his fault that they had decided to tango with an alpha ship in disguise, anyway. The worst was seeing Derek on that ship, the shock and pain on his face.

Knowing that Derek--who hated space travel--had been so lonely that he had finally been coerced into joining Laura? That made Stiles feel like the saddest piece of shit in their solar system. Sure, Derek might have been falling out of love with him, but they would still have been friends. Even if their marriage had been more platonic as things went on, they would have each other. Stiles was lonely, yeah, but Derek had been just as lonely as him. 

The more he thought about it, the more Stiles wondered why he’d ever left in the first place. There had been times where he forgot how little Derek talked about their relationship--days where it was just the two of them pressed in close, exchanging sleepy, slow kisses in the morning light. Sometimes Derek would buy him things for no reason, and other times he would come home exhausted and just sit and purr when Stiles would rub his feet. 

Stiles had been so fucking in love that it had been painful. It would physically hurt him on days when Derek would respond to his ‘I love you’s with ‘you too’. Had it been that difficult to say? Or maybe Derek had just never thought about it. He had always been one to speak through actions. Stiles realized now that it was entirely likely that maybe, after all this time, the only problem was him and not Derek. 

Just knowing that Derek had mourned him, had cried and ached for him, had put his photo up with his parents on the mantel…it was like a bone-deep poison that sapped out all of Stiles’ energy. He had never felt so miserable before, not even in throes of homesickness where he had been ready to steal a cruiser and fly all the way back to Pietskar. If there was something worse than missing Derek, it was knowing that Derek had thought him dead this entire time, and had been heartbroken over it. 

Stiles was so lost in his thoughts that he could barely tune in to Scott singing his praises about Allison and Lydia bailing them out as they were escorted out of the station and down to pickup. He was dragging his feet, dreading being reprimanded after he practically spent two days being left alone with nothing but his guilt and the memory of Derek’s words ringing in his ears. 

He didn’t even realize Scott had stopped walking until he bumped into his friend’s back. A look up showed the exact reason why. Lydia and Allison hadn’t paid there bail, and weren’t there to pick them up.

Laura and Derek were. 

“Uh,” Scott said intelligently while Stiles felt his entire body tense up. Laura rose a hand, waving at them and beckoning for both pirates to come over.

“Well? Come on. You’ve got a ton of cleaning to do if you want to pay off that bail,” she called, oblivious to the way Stiles’ eyes had slowly locked onto Derek and stayed there. Stiles was mortified and humiliated; because he’d never thought that Laura would be so mad at him that she would force him into indentured servitude. He’d spend the next months being forced to see Derek and never touch or talk to him. Would they ever be on speaking terms again? 

Would Derek ever even understand why he left?

Derek, hands deep in the pockets of the merchant gear he was wearing, started to approach. Stiles took a step back, reaching out to clutch at Scott’s arm in a panic when Derek finally stopped just a breath away--close enough to touch.

“A couple nights in jail is a good start to earning my forgiveness,” Derek murmured quietly. Stiles felt his gut burn and his breath hitch, but Derek continued on to say, “but I can think of a few _other_ ways that might work better.”

Stiles’ head was reeling, lungs squeezing every breath out of him and his heart skipping into triple time. He didn’t even know what Derek was saying, not really. He didn’t know if this meant things were okay, or if they were just going to eventually be okay. 

Then…Derek inhaled sharply and said, “I might have a few things to be sorry for, too, now that I think about it,” and Stiles’ entire world shook straight down to his core.

Rage hit him first; anger and frustration and hurt. Then it was relief so strong that all Stiles could do was gasp out, “you motherfucker,” and grab the front of Derek’s robes, dragging him in for a kiss just as frantic as the one he’d given on the day of their engagement. It was desperate, and there was really more of Derek clutching to Stiles’ head and Stiles clinging to Derek’s clothes than actually kissing…but it was probably the best fresh start that Stiles could ever think of. Derek’s lips were as warm and welcoming as they had always been; parting under Stiles’ tongue with his teeth nipping like they always did.

It was addictive and so painful to think about stopping when Stiles had missed doing this for years on end. He slung one arm around Derek’s neck, pulling him in tighter and kissing him harder and faster with each passing second. Derek was just as rushed, trembling in Stiles’ arms like he wasn’t sure if any of this was real.

It was only Laura’s loud reminder that they were still in public that had Derek and Stiles pulling apart. She bustled them into the transport pod, and Stiles ignored everything in favor of climbing into Derek’s lap and just letting himself be held for the first time in years. They had a lot to talk about; but all Stiles really wanted at that moment was to be reminded of what it was like to be surrounded by Derek’s smell and touch.

They were the last to board the ship, dragging themselves apart to make the walk up the ramp and catch sight of Laura explaining to Scott how to use the telecomm so he could phone Lydia and Allison and let them know of the situation at hand.

A thought struck Stiles when he realized that Lydia and Allison could pay the Hales back. He panicked, hand reaching out to clutch sharply at Derek’s when he thought about leaving a second time. 

“I’ll stay,” he rushed out, watching Scott pause from his conversation with Allison. They all turned to look at Stiles, and he had never wanted to hide his face more in his entire life. “I’ll work off your debt, too.”

Scott gaped and Laura seemed like she was stuck between disbelief and excitement. She quickly took on an expression of skepticism, crossing her arms. “You take his load and you’ll be with us for at least a year, you know,” she pointed out.

Stiles looked down, looked to where his fingers were interlaced with Derek’s. He dragged his eyes up, re-learning the shape of that familiar body until his eyes locked with Derek’s and he took in that confused but hopeful expression on Derek’s face. Yeah, he could do a year. In fact, he could do a lot of years.

For better or for worse.

Until death and all that jazz.

Stiles grinned, watching the way Derek‘s face lit up. “I know.”


End file.
